


Between Old Friends

by irisbleufic



Series: Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed [6]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Canon Autistic Character, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Embarrassment, Gotham City Police Department, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Jim Gordon Suffer, Murder Husbands, POV Jim Gordon, POV Outsider, Revenge, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Trolling, Villains, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 04:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “I'm not sure how to explain this,” [Jim] said tensely, rubbing his temple with the joint of his thumb, “but I was accidentally the second witness for Penguin and Nygma's wedding.”Without so much as blinking, Harvey pulled his bottle of whiskey and two glasses out of the bottom drawer.  He poured them generous shots, handing one to Jim."You poor fuckin' bastard,” he sighed, eyes soulful with compassion.  “Wanna talk about it?”[This ficlet picks up where the ending scene ofWYFIR #20leaves off, only it's from Jim Gordon's POV.  This is the only place you'll be able to glimpse the whole...scenario in the Registrar & Recorder's office.  For raven_aorla and VioletK (and anyone else who loves to torment Jim), with love.]





	Between Old Friends

The issue wasn’t that Jim couldn’t bring himself to be happy for them. It _wasn’t_.

That’s what he told himself, at least, as he watched none other than Judge Bam Bam herself emerge from somewhere in the warren of office cubicles and join Cheryl Tierney at the counter across from Oswald and Ed. He had no clue who’d coined the nickname, but it suited her better than Bamford. And, with her battering-ram reputation, she’d decided to own it.

“ _Pssst_ ,” said the red-headed chauffeur who was lounging with her arms folded behind her against the wall. She looked familiar, but Jim couldn’t put his finger on it. “C’mon, they just need us to stand back here and watch. You won’t have to sign anything.”

“Thank God,” Jim muttered, sidling up to her. She smelled like smoke and the kind of perfume Barbara had once worn—understated, _expensive_. “So,” he whispered while the proceedings at the counter began. “You work for Penguin?”

The chauffeur nodded, unfolding her arms, stretching so the gun at her hip was on display.

“Yup,” she said. “For a little under a year now. It’s good money. _Great_ money, even.”

Considering the firearm and the fact there was something uncanny about her profile, Jim decided to follow a hunch. All information was useful. You just never knew when you’d need it.

“I’m gonna guess that you also have some experience in…security,” he said conversationally.

The chauffeur shrugged, bringing her index finger up to her lips as Oswald told Ed, precisely and effusively, how much he loved him and what an honor it was to share everything they’d built.

“Somethin’ like that,” she agreed, sotto voce. “Name’s Caroline. _You’re_ Detective Gordon. Hey, wanna know something funny? Mr. C’s housekeeper thinks you’re hot stuff on TV, but she hates your guts. She’s a crack shot, too. I’d watch myself around that one.”

“You mean the maid who let me in a few weeks ago?” Jim said. “Olga, was it? The Russian?”

“Don’t you think for a second she’s _anybody’s_ maid,” Caroline huffed under her breath, pausing to take in Ed’s heartfelt reply—which, shockingly, did not contain any riddles that Jim could discern. “Housekeeper’s the polite term, but I think she fancies herself a butler.”

“I believe that,” Jim said, thinking of Alfred. “The only butler I know cooks and cleans as much as the next maid. It’s an area of expertise as tricky as anything else, and—hey, what _is_ it with butlers in this city knowing their way around weapons?”

Caroline shrugged, giving Ed an encouraging nod as he glanced over his shoulder to beam at her.

“ _Because_ it’s Gotham,” she replied, side-eyeing Jim as Oswald shot him a wary glance.

“Around the station, that’s an all-purpose answer,” Jim sighed. “As is _only in Gotham_.”

“I think maybe we should stop talking,” Caroline suggested curtly, nodding at the fact that Oswald and Ed were signing the marriage certificate. “The best part’s comin’ up.”

Cheryl signed the certificate next, her smile at Ed more lingering than the one she gave Oswald. The way some people continued to dote on his eccentricity was unsettling, especially since his pre-Arkham crimes were public knowledge.

“Your Honor,” she said, placing the parchment in the Judge’s hand. “ _Do_ the honors.”

Bam Bam signed the document and looked both grooms up and down. Her facial expression was neutral enough to spare offense, yet bewildered enough that Jim could relate. She shook Ed’s free hand first, and then Oswald’s, making a permissive gesture between them. This formidable woman, now, she wasn’t fooled for a second.

“You may now kiss each other,” she said, choosing her words carefully, and Jim hadn’t understood the depth of her fabled circumspection regarding matters related to gender and sexuality until that moment. “If you wish. Technically, this became legal the second we all signed the paper, but I understand some people’s need for ceremony.”

Oswald turned to Ed, propping his cane against the counter, visibly unable to contain his joy. This was what adoring someone, crimes and all, looked like.

“Ceremony is _very_ much in order, my love,” he said, for once not showing off. “May I?”

“Yes,” Ed laughed, exuberantly pulling Oswald to him even as Oswald went up on the balls of his feet. “I _do_! Oh dear. No, I mean— _yes_ , you can—”

“Ed, shut up,” Oswald murmured—fond, uncharacteristically informal—and kissed him deeply.

 _Oh_ , Jim thought, unable to look away as Cheryl applauded and Caroline wolf-whistled.

He’d seen them together at Lee’s engagement party, where they’d been easy and doting to the point of a kiss on the cheek. He’d even seen them at home on a lazy Sunday morning—furious, all protective touches toward each other and scathing disdain toward his intrusion.

What he hadn’t seen before, not even when he’d awakened on Ed’s cramped bed and seen them grinning away at each other like loons, was _this_.

Another woman barged through the door at that moment, panting, but Oswald and Ed didn’t seem to notice. Dark-skinned and attractive with messily upswept blue hair, the intruder added her applause to everyone else’s, exchanging apologetic smiles with Caroline.

“Hey there, jerk,” the chauffeur greeted the hit-woman. “You made it through the crowd?”

“Yeah,” said Viola Aragon, turning to give Jim a wry, perplexed look. “Long time no see.”

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Jim sighed, knowing now he’d read about both of them in the process of organizing files in his partner’s desk. “Ms. Fowler, please tell me the two of you are well out of your previous enterprise.”

“I’ve gotta hand it to you,” Caroline said, beaming at Oswald and Ed, who were both in tears as they finally drew apart. “GCPD always was slow on the up-take. Slow chasin’ us, too.”

Victor Zsasz peering in through the cracked door with a wave was just about the last straw.

“Yeah, uh, it’s been great,” Jim said loudly, gesturing in the direction of the ecstatic couple. “I’ve gotta get back to the precinct. The captain’s waiting on this, so I—”

“Don’t be a stranger!” Ed called as Jim pushed his way into the hall past a snickering Zsasz.

For the entirety of his drive back to GCPD, Jim couldn’t for the life of him erase the image—arresting, vivid, infinitely relivable—of Oswald Cobblepot and Edward Nygma dropping their collective dramatic pretense because they were so in love that they couldn’t help it.

Disgusted to find that one of the rookies had stolen his parking spot, Jim pulled into the alley. He blinked to clear his head of the sudden, jarring memory—Barbara’s daring ambush, baited to perfection. He decided the usual scumbags who lurked there could use a blockade. 

In a foul mood by the time he pushed his way through the front entrance and its rowdy bustle, Jim made a bee-line for the captain’s office.

Summoning all of his willpower to forget what the door had looked like decked out in crime-scene tape, he burst through it without knocking.

“Give a guy some warning!” Harvey groused. “I could’ve been reading _Playboy_ or something.”

Jim’s first impulse was to chew him out for joking, but he was upset enough to get to the point.

“I'm not sure how to explain this,” he said tensely, rubbing his temple with the joint of his thumb, “but I was accidentally the second witness for Penguin and Nygma's wedding.”

Without so much as blinking, Harvey pulled his bottle of whiskey and two glasses out of the bottom drawer. He poured them generous shots, handing one to Jim.

“You poor fuckin' bastard,” he sighed, eyes soulful with compassion. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Jim muttered, downing the shot, holding his glass out for another. “No, Harv, I do not.”


End file.
